


Breaking a Few Eggs

by lynnmonster



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-27
Updated: 2005-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnmonster/pseuds/lynnmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashiwara sees Ogata go on dates, lay on the charm, cut a swath through the ladies -- both the ones who always wish he'd call them more often, and the ones who know better than to expect that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking a Few Eggs

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to thehoyden for audiencing and beta!

Ashiwara sees Ogata go on dates, lay on the charm, cut a swath through the ladies -- both the ones who always wish he'd call them more often, and the ones who know better than to expect that.

"Have a good time," Ashiwara calls out, waving at the departing red sports car.

He's not jealous. He knows that he doesn't have to worry about never hearing from Ogata again, or never having Ogata show up on his doorstep, unnanounced, the way he does. And Ashiwara has the freedom to bully and nag and cook for Ogata that these women never seem to, but still. It's annoying, not knowing at what value, exactly, his worth is placed.

***

Ogata sees Ashiwara dragging Saeki by the hand to go to lunch, and to dinner, and to the bar. Right now, Saeki's protesting that he doesn't _like_ karaoke, and while Ashiwara may have the voice of a songbird, _he_ sounds like a bellowing elk whenever he tries to sing. And Ashiwara's assuring Saeki earnestly that, actually, he's always thought his voice had a compelling raspy quality that _must_ translate well to a torch song. He's using the big eyes, too, so Saeki probably won't hold out much longer.

Ogata clutches his cut-glass tumbler until he feels the little points pressing into the pads of his palm, and turns back to the pretty sponsor's daughter he's been chatting up. She's still smiling up at him with a shine in her eyes and another button of her silk blouse undone, but suddenly Ogata doesn't feel like drawing it out any longer. He finishes his drink and steps in closer, running his hand lightly up her arm until he's cradling her elbow, leaning forward to almost-whisper that he's had enough of this party and is going to retire for another drink in his room, and would she care to join him? She blushes and stammers, but still says yes, so Ogata figures he wasn't rushing things along _too_ much. Which is good, as he doesn't particular want to examine why the thrill of the chase suddenly lost its appeal.

"...but only if it's punk, and I mean it," Ogata overhears as Ashiwara and Saeki pass by on their way to the exit.

***

"What's good for the gander is good for the other gander," Ashiwara mumbles to himself, picking threads off the arm of the couch that's currently trying to swallow him up. He knows he's acting like a sulky child, and that doesn't help his disposition. 

"Heyyyyy, Sash-- Ash-- Ashiwara-san," Saeki's arm falls heavily onto his shoulders. "I thought we were here to have fun. Don't look like that! Smile like you always do!" Saeki pokes Ashiwara's face and then tries to pull up the corners of his mouth into a smile with his fingers. Mostly, he manages to spill his drink onto Ashiwara's tie, and even though his antics make Ashiwara giggle reflexively, Ashiwara still wonders just what he'd done, exactly, to deserve this. 

Right now, he thinks, Ogata is probably... Well. That's not important. Saeki's friendly weight is warm against him, and Ashiwara will get into a cab with him soon, and make certain he gets into bed okay, and maybe even kiss him. 

After that, he'll go back to the room he and Ogata are sharing. The girl should be gone by then.

***

Ogata knows Ashiwara is only ever genuine. He thinks that may be part of why Ashiwara always seems fresh and new to him. He reaches out and rubs the corner of Ashiwara's shirt collar between his fingers. "Is this new?"

Ashiwara ducks his head endearingly and says, "Yes," with a slight blush. Ogata has to pull him forward, and runs his hands down Ashiwara's chest under the pretense of straightening his tie for him.

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I don't have any plans."

Ashiwara's blush deepens, if anything. "Oh. But -- but I do," he says.

A picture of Saeki's laughing face flashes across the canvas of Ogata's mind, and he drops his hands and steps away. "You'd best be going then," he says coldly.

***

Ashiwara is still disgruntled when he gets to the restaurant. He would think, if anything, that Ogata would be _happy_ he's not always hanging around, waiting for attention. 

Plus, he doesn't doesn't think that would be wise. Lately he's been feeling as if, in order to be on even footing with Ogata, he has to be with others, too. So here he is.

And in truth, he really likes Saeki and thinks he might be coming around. He's even starting to get why playing the pursuer is appealing. He sits across from Saeki and there's a definite light in his eyes these days, accompanied by unconscious little gestures like the way he's rubbing his chopsticks together so _sensuously_, looking up at Ashiwara through the fall hair over his forehead.

Dinner is good, and the sake is better. They laugh a lot, and Saeki turns out to be wickedly skilled at casual character assassination of the other pros. Ashiwara can't help but laugh at the imitation of Kuwabara-as-evil-monkey, even though he chides Saeki for being so disrespectful.

He invites Saeki back to his place for a game, but before they even nigiri, Saeki leans over the goban and rests his head on Ashiwara's shoulder, clutching his upper arms. "Ashiwara-san, I want you," he confesses drunkenly to the side of Ashiwara's neck.

***

Ogata spends an unsatisfying night at home, surfing porn sites and playing internet Go by the light of his monitor and the artificial glow of his fish tank.

***

Ashiwara already knows that Saeki doesn't want more from him than maybe one night, and that's okay. And in spite of what he said, Saeki is still skittish when Ashiwara pulls him up and leads him toward the bedroom. He reverses direction and tugs him over to the couch instead, and Saeki's posture relaxes.

They sit, Saeki's hand still in his, and Ashiwara determines to lead him into this in the nicest possible way. The length of their thighs are touching, and Ashiwara unlaces his fingers and shifts away to get a better angle. He runs his fingers over Saeki's ribbed brown sweater, and slowly pushes the clinging fabric up past his waist. Saeki exhales sharply. Ashiwara traces his fingertips lightly over the exposed golden skin, and leans in for a sake-flavored kiss. He scoots forward, stroking up beneath the sweater, and deepens the angle of the kiss. Saeki's lips part and his eyes flutter shut, and soon they're grasping and gasping and pushing into one another on the sofa, still fully clothed.

Ashiwara pulls back and nibbles the corner of Saeki's mouth, getting a dazed look in return. He has to admit to himself, things _are_ kind of fun from this side. He uses the pause to yank Saeki's sweater over his head, treating himself to the sight of dusky nipples and taut abs, tight and strong and defined in a way that his own will never be. 

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks, and Saeki grabs him with all the careless vitality of youth, bucking up against his thigh instead of answering with words. Ashiwara laughs, suddenly carefree, and starts unbuttoning his new shirt. Meanwhile, Saeki unbuckles his trendy belt and pulls down his zipper, but just slides his hand inside to touch himself over the cloth of his underwear. Ashiwara wonders if he's getting shy.

He lets his opened shirt dangle at his sides, and undoes his own trousers. He shimmies out of them, kicking off his briefs as well, and straddles his guest, trapping that exploring hand right where it is. "Will you touch me, too?" he asks softly.

Saeki grips himself, hard, in response. "Okay, yeah, okay -- yeah. Yes," he says, rather breathlessly. "But you're going to have to move a bit."

Ashiwara slides over onto his side, and watches as Saeki fumbles with his clothes until they're all the way off. As soon as they're puddled on the floor, Ashiwara slides his hands up Saeki's legs and guides them onto the couch. Saeki's eyes widen as Ashiwara straddles him again, and Ashiwara picks up Saeki's dangling hand and presses it against his rigid cock. "Just touch me like you'd touch yourself," he advises, and wraps his hand around Saeki's hardness.

"_Oh_," Saeki says, and they stop talking altogether.

All in all, it's a nice night, and certainly educational for everyone involved. Ashiwara wonders why he's not happier about it.

***

Ogata pushes his chair back and emits a pleased sigh. He hadn't dropped by just before dinnertime tonight by _accident_.

Ashiwara is already collecting things off the table and bringing them into the kitchen. Ogata creeps up behind him at the sink and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. "I will have to thank you properly, later," he says against the back of Ashiwara's head, inhaling the comforting scent of him.

"I'm not really in the mood for that," Ashiwara says distractedly, scrubbing a difficult baking pan. His teeth are worrying at his lip and he looks unhappy. "I don't know. Maybe I'll go out."

Ogata stills, but manages to keep breathing through the shock. It's obvious from Ashiwara's tone that he's not being rejected, just put off, but it is disturbing and not like their comfortable routine at all. In fact, Ashiwara's been more sullen than sunny lately, and maybe Ogata's not the only one who's been feeling off-balance. Still, the fact remains that he's just been rebuffed. 

Instead of taking it as a challenge, as he usually would, he replays Ashiwara's words in his head. He knows he wants to get this right, return some of Ashiwara's lightness to him if he can. "So what _are_ you in the mood for?" he asks carefully.

Ashiwara slaps the pan into the dish rack and says, "Nothing you'd be interested in." 

He argues around Ashiwara in circles, persistently following him all over the house, until Ashiwara tells him what he really wants and Ogata gets his second shock of the evening.

***

"Would you let me do those things to you?" Ashiwara asks, half in challenge and half braced for disappointment. 

Surprisingly, the answer is "yes." 

Ogata looks serious as he unbuttons his top button and starts loosening his tie. 

"Then let me do that for you," Ashiwara says, his hands only slightly shaky as they slide the knot down and slip the material out of the tunnel of Ogata's buttoned collar. It's going to be Ashiwara's first time actually doing _this_, but he's not stupid and probably knows better than most what feels good and what does not. Ogata is in for a surprise.

A little laugh escapes him at the thought, and Ogata looks up from Ashiwara's unbuttoning hands with a question on his face. He looks so puzzled that Ashiwara has to yank him forward and lick his way into the twist of Ogata's mouth. This is familiar territory, and Ogata relaxes into the kiss, their mouths moving wetly open against each other, their tongues driving deep in search for more. Ogata's large hands cup Ashiwara's jaw and hold him in place, and he moves incrementally forward, so that Ashiwara can feel the straining, solid length of him against his thigh. 

He reaches up and grips Ogata's wrists, pulling them away from his face but continuing the kiss. He holds Ogata's arms down by their sides and makes a movement of his own, pushing his hips into Ogata's, and is rewarded with a groan he can feel against his teeth.

Breaking the kiss, Ashiwara steps back and hurriedly starts unfastening his own clothing. Ogata follows suit at a slightly slower pace, and soon they're both naked. "Come on," Ashiwara says, and sinks down onto his futon. 

Ogata kneels on the padded pallet and asks, "How do you want me?"

"That's fine," Ashiwara says, and clambers around behind him. He takes a moment to appreciate the contours, the twitch of a muscle here, the flex of a muscle there. "I love your back," he murmurs, finally running his hands over the multi-planed surface and kissing one of Ogata's shoulder blades.

"Ashiwara--" Ogata starts to say.

Ashiwara nips Ogata's earlobe and then runs his tongue around it lewdly, the way he knows Ogata likes, and feels a ripple of reaction course through the body under his hands. "You said you'd let me," Ashiwara reminds him softly, with the unspoken addition of "...do it my way" implicit in his chiding tone. 

Ogata falls silent and eventually relaxes into the backrub. Ashiwara strokes down Ogata's arms and guides them upward, placing Ogata's palms flat against the wall. Ogata looks back over his shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow. 

Ashiwara grins back at him and says, "Yes, keep them there," knowing he doesn't sound reassuring at all. He swoops in for a quick, hard kiss before Ogata turns his head back around, trying to communicate his fierce joy through the firm press of his lips.

He must succeed, at least a little, because Ogata kisses him back, just as hard, just as briefly, and allows his head to drop forward and down. His fingers make a clutching motion against the wall when Ashiwara licks his neck, and Ashiwara savors the metallic tang of sweat against his tongue. He swallows awkwardly -- _gulps_, really -- as his stomach roils and his balls tighten at the thought of _why_ Ogata is twitchy and sweaty, what it is he's about to be allowed to do.

He devours his way down Ogata's back in a flurry of open-mouthed kisses, holding him in place firmly with fingers that are probably clutching at his hips too tightly. "Mmmm -- you -- mmm -- you're _mine_, tonight," he manages to mumble against the skin he's tasting.

He doesn't wait for a response; he doesn't expect one, not really. He just reaches for the little stone pot on the tatami and opens it one-handed. Without looking away from the ladder of Ogata's spine, he scoops out a generous dollop and rubs the vaguely herbal-smelling ointment between his fingers. They both take deep breaths, familiar with the scent of the old-fashioned lubricant. The smell always means "sex" to Ashiwara, either with a partner or by himself, but this time it's going to be a bit different than usual.

He scoots his legs, nestled between Ogata's, further apart, and Ogata shifts to a wider stance. Ashiwara brings his slick fingers to the shadowed apex of the vee formed by Ogata's thighs, and lightly rubs the soft patch of skin there, just behind his testicles. Ogata sucks in a sharp breath and Ashiwara just keeps rubbing little circles onto that spot, increasing pressure bit by bit, until Ogata exhales long and slow. 

Ashiwara trails his fingers upward, putting his free hand on Ogata's ass and tugging slightly, to encourage him open. He presses some of the slippery ointment against the partially visible ring of soft skin, and gets an "Ah!" in response. He reaches for another fingerful and warms it for a moment, rubbing his fingertips together again. He pulls Ogata's cheeks at little further apart, and gets the outer circle of wrinkled flesh sloppy and shiny and slick. He slips the very tip of his index finger inward with no problems and no resistance, and he pulls it back out to get one last dab of lubricant. He pushes it in smooth and slow, not stopping just barely inside this time, but progressing past the initial clenching grasp, and he feels Ogata's body opening for him. He slides in and out, deep then shallow then deep again. He continues this tease for a number of heartbeats, and at about the same pace as his own slowly thudding pulse.

Ogata's pulse is faster, though -- Ashiwara can _feel_ it from the inside -- and his torso is expanding and collapsing with heaving breaths. 

"Hey, shhhh," says Ashiwara. "This is good, right? Can't you feel it's me?" He takes his finger all the way out and adds another one, pressing in slowly. There's a little more resistance this time, but, oddly, the added bulk and pressure seem to be what Ogata needed to make him relax. "See, you know I'd never hurt you."

"Be quiet and do it, already," Ogata grumbles, almost convincingly. Ashiwara would be more likely to take him seriously if he weren't gasping quite so much. He stretches his fingers, making them go deeper, then wider, trying to hit Ogata's prostate as much as possible as he finishes getting him ready.

Once Ogata's actually pushing back to meet him, he pulls his fingers all the way out and quickly slicks himself. He rests a steadying hand on Ogata's flank and uses the other to direct his cock -- already leaking and so hard he almost aches -- to press up against Ogata's slippery hole. 

The sensation's almost too much to bear, so he savors it and waits until the rush recedes, just brushing against the very small place he's going to be inside of, soon.

"Ashiwara --" Ogata chokes out. "Now, okay?"

"Okay," Ashiwara repeats back automatically. He pushes forward and he's right there, he's _in_ -- he's in, and he's going to go even deeper. He shuts his eyes tight and rocks forward and back, inching progressively forward until he's fully sheathed, all the way inside. He almost can't believe it, except there's no way he can refute the overwhelming evidence of his senses, which insist on telling him how impossibly amazing this feels, and that, just perhaps, it would be even better if he were to _move_.

He uses his hand on Ogata's flank as an anchor, sliding back and then thrusting back in again. His eyes pop open and his hips start to snap back and forth without any further direction from his brain, and now he's really doing it, he's fucking _Ogata_, who is bracing himself against the wall so intensely that his arms are quivering visibly.

Ashiwara impulsively wraps both arms around him, one angled to go over Ogata's shoulder and one woven between his arm and chest. He tightens his arms and pulls Ogata back, away from the wall, further onto his cock, and keeps his chest pressed flush up against Ogata's back as he cradles and clings to him and surges up into him from behind.

Ogata's head lolls back as he sinks incrementally lower around Ashiwara, and he lets out an elongated groan. Ashiwara can't help speeding up his thrusts at that; it's far too arousing. In fact, he doesn't know how much longer he can keep doing this -- he feels as if he's about to burst out of his skin -- so he allows his lower arm to drift down until he encounters springy hairs and the pronounced rise of Ogata's erection. He wraps his hand, still somewhat slick, around Ogata's shaft and starts to jack him hard and fast, the way he's seen Ogata do it when he wants to come and come _now_. Usually onto Ashiwara's chest.

Ogata lets out a wordless cry and saws his hips forward, into Ashiwara's hands, and backward, to ensheathe him completely again. Ashiwara clutches at Ogata's torso and tries to physically _pull_ his release from him, supporting him and jerking him off and pounding into him as he gasps and shudders and moans. Ogata's latest vocalization cuts off as he stills, suspended for a fraction of a second, and then time starts up again as he comes messily all over the wall.

Ashiwara sets his teeth against Ogata's shoulder and drives into his still-spasming body over and over and over. His impending orgasm approaches with the weight and speed of a giant wall of water, and then it hits, shattering the space behind his eyes into the thousands of colored pinpricks that precede a blackout.

His vision slowly reverts to normal, and he starts to come back to himself. He releases his death-grip on Ogata and slides out of his body, and like a string has snapped, they both fall back onto the sheets. 

Ogata lies there quietly, breathing deeply, and his eyes remain closed. Ashiwara is content to rest for a bit, head propped on one hand, looking down at his handiwork. He can't stop staring. He's been inside this person, this man, who opened right up for him, just because he asked, even though it's obvious that he would never have done as much for anyone else.

He seemed to enjoy it quite a bit, too, Ashiwara thinks proudly. 

He basks for a little while longer. Ogata is really being very quiet, he notices. And he's very still, too. Ashiwara flings a leg and an arm over Ogata and curls around him, kisses the corner of his mouth. At that, Ogata opens his eyes. He looks shaken. His eyes are glassy in the lamplight, and almost black.

Ashiwara knows how to reassure him -- Ashiwara knows Ogata, he _knows_ him, now more than ever, in a way he didn't before -- so he knows how to ease him, make him feel like he's still on solid ground. "Now that," he says, grinning, "is almost exactly how I want you to wake me up in the morning. Except I'll be lying down. And so will you. You might even have to roll me over, first." 

Ogata's expression lights up at that, and he squeezes Ashiwara to him, then shifts so that they're in their accustomed sleeping position, curling to face each other, with Ashiwara partially underneath.

***

They woke up late, so Ogata didn't get to ravish Ashiwara as promised. Instead, he's sitting at Ashiwara's table, uncomfortable on the hard chair in new and discomfiting ways. Ashiwara appears at his side, beaming, and dishes out a piping-hot omelette onto his plate.

Ogata's still a bit uncertain, although in the morning light, it seems like this is the return of the flirtatious, sweet Ashiwara he knows so well. Ashiwara's still puttering around, preparing things, but Ogata can't sit here and pretend he's not even a little bit disoriented.

"So," he ventures, clearing his throat, "I'm, uh, I'll be going away this weekend. With Michiko?" Ashiwara hums his understanding from the doorway. Ogata finds that unhelpful.

"You remember her, right? The businesswoman I met last month." 

Ashiwara says, "Yes, of course."

Ogata's getting exasperated, and he hasn't even had his coffee yet. Fine then. He'll just have to ask. "Are you -- will you be jealous?"

"Are you going to play Go with her?" Ashiwara asks in response. 

"Hardly," Ogata snorts.

"And are you going to show up at her house drunk and rumpled at two o'clock in the morning?"

"I hadn't planned on it, no," he says.

"Are you going to make her travel halfway across Tokyo to feed your fish?"

"No." 

"Is she going to cook you breakfast?" Ashiwara's breath is hot on his ear, and when did he come so close, anyway? "Or, hmm, is she going to mock you in a public forum in front of an audience of your fans?" Ashiwara plucks the napkin off of Ogata's lap and snaps open his belt buckle with a clank. 

"No," says Ogata, hearing the hoarseness he can't keep entirely out of his voice. Ashiwara pulls down his zipper and snakes his hand inside. His flesh jumps into Ashiwara's palm of its own accord.

"And are you going to spread your legs for her and put your arms up against the wall and let her fuck you till you shake?" Ashiwara asks, low and dirty, as he strokes Ogata's suddenly straining erection. Sense memory sweeps over him as he flashes back to last night. He closes eyes against the sinking thrill of sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"N-no," he manages.

Ashiwara keeps talking, whispering nonsense about how hot Ogata was and how unbelievable, as he manipulates Ogata in the tunnel of his hand. Ogata's losing any sense of control he once had, and the surge under his skin becomes almost unbearable.

"You made me so happy, letting me use you like that," Ashiwara is murmuring into his ear. "It was almost as good as the first time _you_ fucked _me_." Ogata sighs and comes all over Ashiwara's hand, right there under the breakfast table. Ashiwara wipes Ogata off with the napkin and then licks his own fingers clean.

"So, you're not going to do any of those things with her, right?" Ashiwara chirps as he fetches his own omelette from the kitchen.

"No, of course not," Ogata says.

"Then I have nothing to be jealous about, do I." Ashiwara plops into his own seat and starts eating. 

They continue with breakfast in a companionable silence, interrupted only by requests for condiments or a new section of the morning paper, until Ogata's struck with an unaccustomed concern. "What about you? Are you going out?"

"No, I don't think so," Ashiwara says. "I'm finding I don't really enjoy the nightlife all that much. Anyhow, this way, when you get back, you'll know where to find me." He smiles sweetly, and Ogata feels something he doesn't want to examine too closely, especially if it's just heartburn. Ashiwara never could take criticism of his cooking.

Ashiwara narrows his eyes a bit and points a fork at him. "Now finish your eggs." 

Ogata obediently shoves another forkful in his mouth, and Ashiwara nods at him across the table, satisfied. Ogata wipes his mouth and smiles into his napkin.


End file.
